Monday, April 27, 2009

Needful Things

Jasper came into the world with a bang, in a hulksmash explosion of blood and birthmatter and pain. And when they handed him to me - he, as full and round and alert as a baby many times his age - he reached for me and clung and suckled with the same ferocious determination that had propelled him so explosively from my womb.

I called him Truffler, because at night he would snort and burrow, seeking out my breast with his nose and mouth, never opening his eyes, never waking, just drinking, sucking, snorfling until he had his fill. In the light of day, eyes open, he would use his hands, grabbing and kneading and pinching and gazing up at me, an adorable little beastie, ravenous and innocent and impossibly, impossibly soft, and I would wonder: how can a creature that brings such pain inspire such tenderness? Why do I not push him away?

I could not push him away. I could no more push him away than I could tear through my ribcage and rip out my heart. And so I pulled him to me, time and again, and exulted in the soft curves of his fat baby legs and his rounded baby belly and his plush baby bum, and smiled through the pain and exhaustion and wished, fervently, that this would never end. I pulled him to me and clung to him and drank in his babyness like a draught, knowing, in my gut, that someday, I would miss this, crave this, yearn for this like the parched soul yearns for cool water. And so I drank it in, in big, greedy gulps, matching his thirst with my own.

Even when the exhaustion became unbearable, I resisted pulling away. Even when he started to bite, I resisted pulling away. I tottered and spun from the exhaustion; my breasts bled from his painful nips: still I perservered, determined to preserve this, his babyness, his need for me. Even when it hurt, this need, I clung to it, I clung to it, unwilling - unable? - to let go. That he refused bottles was, in my tired mind, a kind of victory: he would have only me. He wanted only me. His need kept him young; his need kept him mine.

I drank his need like a draught.

When he finally took a bottle - a good thing, I agreed with my husband, a good thing that he be able to get nourishment from someone other than me, a good thing that I could be separated from him for a night, a good thing that he not need me so relentlessly - I recognized the moment as a victory. I could sleep through the night. I could leave him for more than a few hours at a time. I could wear a bra that did not feature clip-up flaps. I could go a day without being bitten. I could reacquaint myself with my body as my own.

I could move - I can move, now - through the day and through the night without experiencing myself as an object of need. This is good. I love it; I celebrate it; I thank the gods for it. But is it wrong to say - even as I recognize that he will outgrow that need, even as I acknowledge that he must outgrow that need, even as I celebrate my freedom from that need - that I still need him, that I am thirsty for his need of me?

Is it wrong that I cling to his babyness like an infant to a breast, that, in moments, I must fight the urge to paw and truffle and cling, to bury my nose in the sweet, soft folds of his neck and whisper, you are mine? Is it wrong that I have moments of wanting to press him to me and wish ourselves back to the first months of his life, when his need was unquenchable, indisputable? Is it wrong that I have moments of wishing that I could freeze time here and keep him as he is, or as he was a few weeks ago, my needful creature? Is it wrong that while I celebrate, quietly, ambivalently, his weaning, I mourn the growth, the movement toward his independence from me that this weaning represents? Is it wrong that I wish, sometimes, that I could keep him like this, a baby, my baby, forever?

85 Comments:

It is not wrong at all. I mourn now that both my babies weaned themselves so young. At the time all I could do, in my secret exhaustion and hidden depression, was think -Thank God- and move on, never knowing that later I would look back and mourn that I did not mark the passing of that time of need, as you have here.

Thank you for your vulnerability and openness. I come back to your blog time and time again because of it. You inspire me.

This is perhaps the most beautiful post I have ever read! You have such a beautiful way with words. There is nothing Stephen King-ish about this post. Only a mother being honest and able to share a story that so many others can relate to 100%. I absolutely miss those days when my boys were babies and I was breastfeeding. I miss it. Even though yes, now, I have much more freedom. Those first few months are too precious and go by too quickly.

Mr Lady - that would be my husband. We were at our storage locker, and I needed to nurse, and the only thing available was an old rocking chair, and there was nowhere to put it but out in the open. Kinda weird, but it makes a point.

i just weaned my 13mo a few weeks ago because he wouldn't stop biting and i was really afraid i would end up in the ER with a nipple in one hand trying to explain why i hadn't just weaned the kid... he did fine with the weaning, just a couple of cranky days, but my heart still aches when i think about it :-(

With my oldest (3.5 yrs) I pushed his independence, wanted him to just grow up already, even down to putting him in pajamas at a year instead of a sleeper. Go, child, grow up fast, let's go!

With my youngest (almost 18 mths), I can't let go of his babyhood. He's in footed-sleepers some nights, still. He has sippy cups that look like bottles. I can't imagine him not sleeping in a crib. We are slow and cuddly.

I love this post. I am reminded, as my teenager took a trip out of state until Thursday, that this never ends. It never ends. They may not be at the breast, but you'll always want to keep them close to it.

Reading posts like this over the past couple of years are what have helped me to embrace my daughter's infancy, even at the most trying times. And I can't, just CAN'T, close the breastfeeding chapter with her - we are down to once a day now that she's 16 months old, and that is really more for me than her. Baby days really do disappear in the blink of an eye & you are wise to savour them.

Oh Catherine, I've been mulling over a post on exactly this topic, as I face weaning my daughter and returning to work.

You so captured the feeling of ambivalence I have about it. Yes, I will enjoy the return of my body, and the return of sleep and independence. But I am far less sure about the loss of Her as a suckling, cuddling ball of tiny babyness. The sword is always, always double-edged.

Ezra only has bottom teeth and he's biting me daily. He'll gladly take a bottle from anyone now, and even I find myself caving some days and giving him one, just to get a break, just to avoid a nip, just to make sure he's full since his appetite seems way beyond what I can provide anymore.

And then I take some fenugreek and pick up again at the next feeding, because I am so. Not. Ready. I'm afraid he is, and that I'll never be.

due to health complications, i have had to pump for my daughter and feed her my breast milk via her g-tube, and i, at this one year mark, am finally weaning the machine... silly enough, i am having the same feelings of separation, even though i have not had the same nuzzling and contact that you have. i love that i have nourished her all this time, just the same.

i am feeling you, catherine. this is tough stuff... especially when it may be your last... (for me, maybe... for you... did you ever remind your husband of the snip?)

Exactly how I am feeling. I am still nursing my third child, at almost 2 1/2. I did not nurse my older kids for more than weeks. It was horribly painful for the first solid year, but I didn't quit. I don't think I am heroic for that, or noble. Just needful for it.

The first time my son took a spoonful of rice cereal, I cried. Having him self-wean (NOT at all encouraged by me) at the age of one was incredibly hard. I am "free," but as I watch him turn from baby to boy (16mos now) I literally ache for more baby days.

How beautiful. I can completely relate. I weaned my son at 20 months, and mostly only because I was pregnant and needing a few months with my body to myself (or, as it was, fully in the hands of the wee one growing inside me)

I am nursing my third, and lst, baby. Watching my 5 year old grow away from me and seek out my husband more, makes me hold onto my little one even more tightly... even as I look forward to weaning and being able to have the freedom to eat what I want (she has food allergies), drink what I want, and from the pain.

After 11+ years of parenting I STILL yearn for my babies to **need** me the way I still need them. I celebrate the people they are becoming but I miss the infants they were. I miss being the only person who could right the wrongs, fill their bellies and soothe their pains. I suppose if it was still a requirement of me then I would not only NOT miss it, I would frequently resent it.

Thank you. Again you have written something that speaks directly to my heart.

I didn't breastfeed but I still yearn for his babyness, his neediness of me. He's a year now, in the care of someone else, not always needing or wanting to be with me, near me. I miss that, and yet I am so proud of him and love watching him grow.

My breastfed baby is about to turn a year old. I want my body back. I want to wean. But I will miss this. I really will. I had no idea that I would come to savor something that seemed like torture just 12 months ago. I knew I would put in my time, but I never knew I wouldn't want that sentence to end.

Thank you for this beautifully written post. My 14-month-old is showing signs of wanting to wean. While part of me is very happy, the other part literally aches for the loss of her babyness. I guess I'm normal in that.

love it, love it. I love your blog, but your experience with nursing is precious. I can't even imagine how I'll survive weaning. But I feel by reading you, I'm preparing myself for it..I even linked to you on my post for today:http://thebabyhiccups.blogspot.com/2009/04/weaning-not-me-not-yet.html

This is such a timely post for me as my baby started biting me last night, and continued today, and I sense this is the beginning of the end -- it happened this way with his brother, too. It's very sad, and I'm definitely going to cherish the lingering moments for however long it lasts. Meanwhile, I'm also trying to look at the positive side, especially the no longer having to go into a special room to pump twice a day at work. Your post was beautifully written and captures the emotional aspects so well.

My little girl was doing great until 4-5 mos of age. I'd suprisingly gotten my damn period a mere 3 months after she was born and not long after that, I guess my supply wained. I didn't realize it right away - just chalked it up as a growth spurt. And I suffered. I hardly slept. I was in pain. Exhausted. But I hear you - I loved that she needed me. At her 6 month well-check - my worst nightmare - her weight hadn't budged an ounce from her last appointment. I was firmly told to supplement and was refered to a pediatrician. I was crushed. Worse? The Pediatrician's brilliant opener to me? "Not quite the Holstein you thought you were are you?" Yes, he actually said that. I was dev.a.sta.ted. I then punched him in the face. Ok, maybe I just wish I did... I should have dammit. Douchebag.

I still kept up the nursing continued with supplementing for another few months until she no longer seemed to... want me. I could still cry. I felt like a complete failure.

That awesome, intimate me and baby time was too fleeting. It IS too fleeting.

My first son was a truffler too. He would plow his big pumpkin head into my back repeatedly in a search for milk all night long. My second son is more of a puller...reach out and grab the shirt/chest/neck/hair and PULL the boob into his mouth by force. Shirts or bras won't stop him!

I'd been trying to find the words for the birth of my son... you nailed it on the head with how your son "came into the world with a bang, in a hulksmash explosion of blood and birthmatter and pain." My son did also... and we did a very similar breastfeeding dance. Thanks for the beautiful post.

I weaned my last baby when he was thirteen months old. Though we'd been tapering off for a while, the impetus to wean completely was a big anniversary trip my husband and I had planned. I knew the last time we nursed before I left that it would really be the last time--particularly bittersweet since I knew our family was complete.

When we returned home, I thought I'd try to nurse again, to see if we could pick it back up. When I put him to my breast, my son looked up at me and laughed and laughed.

It was like he wanted me to know, "Silly mommy, I'm a big boy now!"

You're not wrong or strange at all to have mixed feelings about weaning. Oh, and I love the breastfeeding picture!

I can relate to many of these emotions. It was bittersweet when my son weaned at 14 months. Even my first-born who never nursed, who I instead pumped for for 6 months brought me strange feelings when I quit pumping.

Now when #3 weans (I do not know when that will be...she is almost one year old and shows no signs of wanting to wean.) I will feel extra sad since she is my last baby.

That photo of the 2 of you is amazing. I would love to have a photo like that of my baby and I. Your husband has a great eye.

And Jasper? He is adorable. I want to pinch his cheeks and blow raspberries on his belly. Luckily I have my own baby I can do that to so I don't have to accost yours.

Well, I still feel about my Norah the way you feel about Jasper, and she's still greedily nursing at 3.5 years. Weird? Maybe, but we don't do it in public and she loves it so, and I love it so, and I can't imagine it ending.

And who couldn't want to devour a tot like Jasper? He's an unbearable heart throb.

I've been following your blog for about 2 years now and I have never commented. Well, I don't think I have, anyway. But I couldn't pass this one up. I just weaned my 16 month old twins a week ago and reading this nearly killed me, but it is so beautifully written. I know, oh do I know, how you feel.

I'm already dreading having to give up breastfeeding and my daughter is only 9 weeks old. I'm afraid of when the end will come as I love my baby girl. the sneaking home in the middle of the day just so I can nurse her (hubby stays home with her as he's disabled)...I know at some point she will get teeth and I may want to stop..but right now..I don't ever want to let her go.

I just read my heart on your page...I too wondered if it was wrong and I know that I ache for her to need me just as much as I need her. I am not ready for her to wean....if I had my way, I'd breastfeed till she was 18. Just kidding...but I hope you get the point!

If it is wrong, then we are wrong together. My son weaned before I was ready, and I mourned it. I mourn it still, and he has been weaned for over a year. He weaned just days before his first birthday, and he is now 28 months old. I look at this little boy and inwardly weep for the baby that was. He still needs me, but not in the way that I need him.

Oy, I nursed my oldest (2.5) until she was 2. I just told my husband that our next and final child may be breastfed for a year or 4, who knows. It all depends... and as that yet hypothetical child will be our last, breast feeding may take 4 years to stop.

It's not wrong. That's why I still call my 13 and 10 year olds my babies. I can't bear to lose the older one to puberty, which is starting to happen. I can't bear that he's taller than I am. I'm clinging to whatever dependence they have on me that I can get. :-(

This was beautiful. My daughter finished breastfeeding just a few weeks ago... but beyond that, today I am away on business in a different state. The first night I was away from her was last night and I found myself crying just a little while ago because I saw a picture of her and it brought me to my knees. I don't want to miss a moment - she's almost 6 months old now... a prime time for milestones and I just... miss her. I feel like I *need* to be there.

Fantastic that I can be away on business and everything can be handled without me. But so, so sad at the same time because... it can be handled without me.

When I weaned my daughter she was more or less preferring the bottle anyway; I wanted to go further but had to stop for other reasons. But it killed me; she was already 19 months old but I so wanted to hang onto her and that closeness that much longer. Because I knew there would be no more babies.

Nothing wrong with wanting to freeze time. I frequently feel the urge to rewind. If only...I remember the Poose "truffling" for snacks early in the morning when he was a tiny thing. I felt like a well-loved and needed buffet! It was great.

I was totally unprepared for the physical and emotional push/pull of nursing. Probably because I was unprepared for the push/pull of motherhood. It seems like just when you get used to a new trick, they move on, with total and utter disregard for us.